And here's a random drabble because I need some goddamn fluff every now and then. e_e Here We Stand is in the works, as promised, but my Muse has an overabundance of ideas sometimes and I can't fit them all into one story.

This is set in July of 1998, so it's before the events in RE0 and RE1. I'll keep it as close to RE canon as humanly possible, with one exception, which is what makes this fic AU: there was never any such thing as Project Wesker. If you haven't played RE5, basically what this means is that Wesker won't be the same psychopath we all knew and trembled in fear of from the games. This is my interpretation of what Wesker would have been like if Project W hadn't fucked with his mind. If I adhered strictly to that idea, Wesker's name wouldn't even be Wesker; however, it's just too odd for me to refer to him as anything other than Wesker, so his name will stay the same. Forgive me for that, but I tried, and I just couldn't find another name that fit him. It bugged me out, to be honest.

The R.P.D. S.T.A.R.S.' Alpha team ambled out onto the track field behind the station, toting their firearms – there was a gun range beyond the track – and other equipment necessary for the day's workout. It was mid-afternoon, just long enough after lunch that their food had digested; the heat of the day, though the more physically demanding parts of their training session would come later, when the sun wasn't at its zenith. Even in Pennsylvania, the middle of summer got hot enough that doing heavy work was uncomfortable.

As they entered the field, the team's newest member elbowed his teammates and chuckled, pointing to the lone figure jogging mindlessly around the track. They all recognized Bravo team's sharpshooter, Forest Speyer, and they had to join in the mirth. Joseph cupped his hands over his mouth and called, in a wicked imitation of the line from the classic film Forest Gump, "Run, Forest, run!"

As Forest rounded the far corner of the track, all five Alpha team members heard his voice drift to them through the muggy air, "Fuck you, Jo!" This, of course, just caused them to break into more chuckles, with Joseph and Brad Vickers doing so the most emphatically. The newest Alpha team member, though only recently promoted, had quickly endeared himself to his new teammates with his irrepressible sense of humor. Even the older, more level-headed Barry found himself laughing at Joseph's shenanigans.

"It's impolite to laugh at others' misfortunes, gentlemen," chided a sixth voice, "especially since you could easily be joining him." Alpha team turned to face the newcomer, Joseph looking particularly sheepish as the founder of S.T.A.R.S. and the Alpha team captain approached. Though quite average in height and build, something about him never failed to intimidate new members; the rawest rookie, Bravo team's Rebecca Chambers, had admitted that in her interview with the man that she'd been completely overawed by the captain's presence. Perhaps it was the dark, cool colors of his uniform, or the ever-present sunglasses on his nose.

The only woman in the group smirked privately to herself. Jill hadn't been laughing, so naturally she hadn't been included when the captain called out the merry-makers.

"Speyer!"

As his name was called, Forest obediently left off rounding the curve and trotted up to his superior. "Yes, Captain Wesker?"

Forest watched his own reflection in Wesker's sunglasses as the blonde spoke. "How much longer will you be out here?"

Forest grimaced repentantly and looked to one side. "Until Rico calls me back in, sir," he explained.

Wesker quirked an eyebrow inquisitively while crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring Joseph's snicker behind him. "What did you do this time, to annoy Marini so badly?"

The Bravo team sharpshooter looked at his feet like a sheepish child. "Me an' Eddy were just dickin' around like we always do, nothin' special. Rico must'a got somethin' up his ass, he's been bitchy all day."

A faint smirk tugged at Wesker's lips. "Dealing with idiots like you and Dewey, I don't blame him. It's no wonder he's starting to go gray at forty-one."

Hearing the humor in Wesker's voice, Forest relaxed a bit, no longer fearing an extra reprimand from Alpha team's imposing captain. "Heh, yeah. I could'a swore I heard him celebrate when Jo got moved to your team, Cap'n."

Now it was Chris and Brad's turn to snicker at Joseph's expression, and Wesker cracked a smile. "His expression was of pure relief when I told him. But he still has to deal with you, I'm afraid. Tell him I sent you back in early, we need the field and I'd rather not be tripping over you constantly."

Relief spread over Forest's features and he ducked his head gratefully. "Thanks, Captain Wesker!" he said before promptly trotting past Alpha team back toward the station, as if before Wesker could change his mind. Joseph gave his former teammate a mock-encouraging slap on the back as he passed, earning himself a one-finger salute from the sharpshooter. The other Alpha members smiled to themselves. They wouldn't be on the field for another hour or more, and in any case their exercises wouldn't be hindered by an extra person running laps.

After a session of target practice – during which Barry remarked to the captain in a loud whisper that it was a good thing he'd sent Forest back in or else they'd have had to endure another shootout between Forest and Chris, with Wesker replying in kind that that had been his main reason behind taking pity on the sharpshooter and Chris remarking loftily that Forest only wished he was as good – came everyone's least favorite drills. The only one who got enjoyment out of the taxing, repetitive exercises was Wesker, who naturally didn't have to participate, only observe. He smirked wordlessly at the complaints his team voiced. By the time they were done, everyone was hot, tired, and a little grumpy. Joseph kept up a steady stream of grumbles as they packed up their gear; the rest of the team ignored their newest member's sullen plaints, but eventually they grated a bit too much on Chris' nerves, and he rounded crossly on the omni man. "Jo, just shut up already, will you?"

Undaunted by the way Chris loomed several inches over him, Joseph bristled. "What if I don't want to, huh?" he snapped.

Noticing the team captain's intense scrutiny of the quarrelers, Chris just rolled his eyes and forewent replying to Joseph's ill-tempered demand. He knew better than to pick a fight with Wesker around. Been there, done that. But Joseph hadn't been with the team long enough to learn that lesson, and opened his mouth to continue antagonizing the marksman, when a black-gloved hand descended onto his shoulder. "Frost, that's quite enough," Wesker said sternly. Although his voice and expression was flat and impassive, it still made Joseph jump slightly.

"Uh, yessir. Sorry, sir. I just, uh… lost my temper for a second, sir," he stammered.

Barry and Chris exchanged knowing looks and grins. They saw the faint smirk on their captain's lips, and knew what that meant. New Alpha team members, as was the custom, had to go through a form of hazing before they were counted as officially part of the team. It seemed to be time for Joseph to be inducted, and the one to bring him into the fold, as had happened for the other four members, was Captain Wesker himself. Brad and Jill, after being beckoned by the other two, formed a loose semi-circle that cupped around Joseph, who was by far the more likely one to try to bolt.

"Did you?" Wesker inquired rhetorically, smirking down at the cowed omni man. "You're new to the team, so ignorance is excusable, but only once. I won't tolerate anyone starting quarrels on my team, Frost. If you have a problem with one of your teammates, you bring it to me, understood?" At Joseph's nervous nod, Wesker's smirk widened. "And I mean that quite literally. If you feel like picking a fight with some in Alpha, by extension you are picking it with me. I'll give you one freebie, Frost, then your grace period is over." Wesker was, by now, wearing a grin at Joseph's expression. "Come on then, en guarde." He adopted a relaxed but ready stance; the only one not grinning was Joseph, whose face was the picture of wary confusion.

"Uh, what?"

"It's very simple, Frost. You get one chance to start a fight. But since I don't want anyone getting into a brawl, if you fight anyone, it will be me, since I'm responsible for this team. And if you don't learn your lesson from this…" he trailed off and let Joseph's imagination take up, which was certain to be more effective than anything he could say. As the implication of what Wesker had said sank in, Joseph's expression shifted to a devious smile. A chance to take a swing at the infamous Captain Wesker? Why not!

Clenching his hands into fists, Joseph brought his right hand up in a vicious uppercut at Wesker's chin. The older man tilted his head and leaned back just enough that Joseph's knuckles clipped his chin with far less force than he'd actually put behind that swing; even with that, it clashed his teeth together resoundingly and made him bite his lip.

Wesker danced back before Joseph could take another swing, smirking ominously. "There went your free hit, Frost." Joseph charged forward with fists raised, but his momentum was reversed sharply when he encountered an elbow jabbing harshly into his solar plexus, followed by Wesker's other fist slamming into his abdomen. Joseph reeled backward, wheezing, and toppled flat onto his back when Wesker's shin came into abrupt contact with the back of his knees and folded his legs right under him.

Joseph bounced upright promptly and, ducking under a wide right hook, threw himself forward into a tackle, hoping to return the favor and drive his shoulder into Wesker's gut. The team captain tilted his body so that the blow was only glancing, and swung his knee into Joseph's ribs. Joseph staggered but recovered, and shot his fist forward, right at Wesker's nose. But, in a move that left the omni man dizzy and confused, Wesker caught the fist and used the kinetic energy behind it to flip him right back onto his rear in the dirt. This time, though, Wesker continued the assault while Joseph was down; at the last moment he deflected his fist and it collided with the ground right next to Joseph's cheek.

Eyes widening, Joseph lurched upright; but he had no time to initiate another strike, because Wesker was in his space, kneeing him savagely in the gut, and when he doubled over with a gasp, brought his fist crashing down on the back of Joseph's head. The omni man saw stars and measured his length on the ground once more, but this time he made no attempt to get back up. Wesker stood over him, smirking, while he rubbed the back of his head and rolled onto his back. "Uncle, uncle! You win, Captain! Mercy!" he whimpered.

"Melodramatic," Jill remarked to Chris with a wry snort. Chris chuckled, replying that that was Jo.

Wesker's smirk widened into a true grin, and he held his hand out to Joseph. When the omni man took it, he was hauled swiftly to his feet and clapped on the shoulder. "And now it's official. Welcome to Alpha team," he said with a chuckle. Joseph smiled ruefully, catching on, and coughed when Barry came up and gave his back an encouraging slap.

"Hoi, none of that, I'm still trying to catch my breath!" he protested, shying away from the burly weapons specialist. Laughter rippled through the rest of the team as they began making their way back to the station, with Joseph predictably playing up his defeat and limping conspicuously. As they walked, Joseph turned to Chris, who besides Barry had been on Alpha team the longest. "So, does he do that with everyone?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah. Handed all our asses to us, too, so don't feel bad."

"Even to Jill?" Joseph turned to the only female Alpha team member, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Jill snorted.

"Our captain is a gentleman, he would never raise his hand against a woman," she remarked wryly. "No, I got the verbal flaying rather than the physical smackdown. Chris and Brad can attest, you guys are lucky than he only gave you a few bruises. If I'd had a reputation at that point, it would've been nonexistent by the time he was done." As both Chris and Brad were nodded emphatically in agreement, Joseph gave Jill a sympathetic grimace.

"It's kinda hard to be grateful when it feels like your ribs are cracked and your skull's shattered," he commented, reaching back to rub his head again. "Jeez, you'd think he'd spare me the migraine."

Barry rumbled a chuckle. "He was going easy on you as it was, Jo."

Incredulous, Joseph turned to the others, but they all agreed with Barry's assessment. "You've gotta be shitting me."

Chris shook his head. "He's not the captain for nothing. We could tell he was going easy. Did you notice that he never even went for your face? And he only swung at you when you were on the ground once, and deliberately missed? If he'd been serious, you'd be black and blue."

Barry snickered. "Like you were, eh Chris?"

The marksman grimaced. "At least I didn't make it easy on him. I managed to give him a few bruises too."

"Not nearly as many as you had," Barry insisted, grinning at the now-disgruntled Chris.

Joseph grinned at Chris' discomfiture, and turned to Brad to inquire how his own fight with Wesker had turned out. The pilot sighed dramatically and threw his arm over Joseph's shoulder. "Same way yours did, Jo. In the dirt begging for mercy."

In a similar manner, the short walk to the station was occupied by the Alpha team. Wesker sauntered along in front of the group, listening to the banter with a faint smile on his lips. There was a bit of complaining about how tyrannical the captain could be sometimes, how he was a hardass and a slavedriver, but none of the plaints were made with any ill-feeling behind them. He worked them hard, but that was why they were such an elite team, and why there was no little jealousy amongst Bravo team about Joseph's promotion to Alpha over the others' heads. Being part of S.T.A.R.S. Alpha was a prestigious position in the R.P.D., and every one of them was proud to wear the uniform. And, even if their captain didn't cut them much slack, they knew it was because he considered them good enough that they didn't require much slack. And they worked hard to live up to those expectations.

Once all the equipment was put up and everyone went back to the S.T.A.R.S. office, Richard Aiken from Bravo team hailed them. "Hey guys! Me an' Forest an' Eddy are trying to get up a buncha guys to go for a drink after work, wanna come?"

"Does that mean I can't go?" Jill inquired wryly.

Everyone in the room chuckled, while Richard rolled his eyes and wryly assured her that yes, she was invited. Chris, Joseph and Brad also accepted the offer, then turned with Richard to face the aloof Captain Wesker, just about begging him to come. "C'mon, Captain! Rico's too busy, or so he says," Richard said cajolingly.

Wesker quirked an eyebrow, smiling subtly at the eager anticipation on their faces. "So all of you are incapable of enjoying an evening out without one of your superiors there babysitting, is that what you're insinuating?" Richard blustered as the smile on Wesker's face widened at his discomfiture.

"Well, we will need a designated driver, sir," Chris offered to save Bravo's backup man. "Knowing Jo and Ed, all of us aren't going to be sober enough to drive ourselves home." That earned him indignant glares from the men in question, but since he was right, there was no protest.

A chuckle bubbled up from Wesker's chest. "Fair enough. Put that way, I suppose I should come along. Count me in, then." Formerly disgruntled expressions lifted into happy grins. Jill mused to herself that they were like a pack of little kids, begging their big brother to come play with them. In a way, that's exactly what it was, since although ages in S.T.A.R.S. ranged greatly, the team captain possessed an air of confident authority that the others naturally looked up to and admired. The newer members seemed to all go through a phase where they were very intimidated by their captain, and in most cases slightly resentful because they felt so intimidated, before they became accustomed to being in the team and realized that Wesker wasn't what his reputation in the R.P.D. painted him as.

Jill snorted. According to the average officer in the Raccoon Police Department, the S.T.A.R.S. captain Wesker was a cold, autocratic monster who was only civil to his team to make sure he kept his position. But, as Jill had experienced, he wasn't that bad of a guy once you got used to all his little idiosyncrasies. True, he was rather standoffish and aloof at first, and he didn't have much of a tolerance for stupidity – and possessed a sardonic, cuttingly acerbic sense of humor – but beyond that he was a decent guy. Mostly everyone thought he was a tyrant because he didn't show his more easygoing side often, and many were stung by his sharp wit. However, if one were to ask any of the four veteran Alpha team members, they would all affirm that they trusted their captain with their very lives, and were just as proud to be on his team as they had been the day of their promotion.

A hand being waved in front of her face pulled Jill out of her moment of introspection, and she mock-grimaced at Joseph, pulling one fist back as if to punch him. Joseph, of course, shied away with the protest that he didn't need another beating today, thank you. A cutting remark from Wesker broke off the playful mock-quarrel and the team settled down to finish up the last of the business for that day, then they all left as one for the parking lot. Roughly half of their eight-person party went straight home to drop their vehicles off, and then piled into another's car to go to the bar they had agreed upon. It was inevitable, as Chris had pointed out, that there would be enough alcohol flowing that one or more of the group would end up too inebriated to safely drive themselves. After all, they were cops – a fine example it would set if one of them got into an accident because they were buzzed behind the wheel.

Once at the bar and all settled in, with drinks in hand, the team clowns promptly threw out a challenge to see who could out-drink them. It was a truly worthy challenge, for Edward and Joseph both had surprisingly high tolerances for alcohol. After much pestering and cajoling, Wesker was persuaded to participate, along with Chris and Brad.

Chris was the first victim, though by forfeit; he knew his limits and didn't particularly relish a hangover the next morning. Brad was the next to go, and though he didn't pass out or anything equally damaging to his dignity, he was definitely drunk, though he swore up and down he was stone-cold sober. Even Edward was beginning to slur his words, giggling tipsily along with Joseph, while Wesker remained as collected as ever.

The contest hadn't stopped the others from enjoying their drinks; they just knew they didn't stand a chance. Both Forest and Jill had consumed enough to develop a mild buzz; Richard, though he'd plainly wanted to join in the fun, had already agreed to drive, so he had resigned himself to non-alcoholic beverages. Chris was in the process of sobering up so that, between the two of them, if worst came to worst the other six S.T.A.R.S. members would have a ride home.

Jill chuckled at the drunken ribaldry being traded amongst the group, pausing to give her captain a grin and a wink. He raised an eyebrow at the intoxicated flush dusting her cheeks. She smirked back and stood, announcing that she should probably be going, since it was getting kinda late. But after she had a piss.

"You're not driving," Wesker remarked, making the statement an order; Jill had been one of the ones who had brought her car.

"I'm not leaving my car to be vandalized by idiots like them," she retorted, jerking her thumb at Brad, Edward and Joseph, the latter pair having finally conceded defeat when it became evident that they couldn't walk a straight line without toppling over.

"Valentine, you're drunk. You're not driving," he insisted. Chris, on hearing the statement, snorted into his water glass, and Jill grinned.

"This is barely buzzed, Captain. If I was drunk, believe me, you'd know it." Without giving him the chance to say anything else, she turned on her heel and headed for the bathroom, and to her credit, her stride and posture gave almost no indication to her blood-alcohol levels.

With a chuckle, Chris shook his head slightly. "She's right, Captain. I've seen her when she's drunk – it's not pretty."

Wesker quirked an eyebrow at that, easily able to put two and two together going by Chris' tone and expression. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips. "I take it you've been on the receiving end of her attentions before?"

"Yep. I'll give her this, though: she wasn't that drunk, so when I told her to knock it off, she did." He shook his head again.

Not long after that, Jill returned, and went to stand next to Wesker's shoulder. "Okay, I'm a little more buzzed than I thought," she remarked.

Wesker stood. "I'm glad you reached that conclusion, Valentine. I wouldn't have let you drive no matter what. I'll take you home – I've had enough karaoke for the night." Happily drunk, Brad, Edward and Joseph were enthusiastically and tonelessly singing a three-part harmony of Don't Stop Believin'.

"Those three are enough to make a hardcore Journey fan retch," Jill agreed with a grimace in the singers' direction. They bid the others good night and left the bar, strolling leisurely over to Wesker's sleek '86 Mustang where it sat parked between to Jill's Wrangler and Richard's pickup truck. He opened the passenger side door for her, and as she sat down, Jill remarked, "Have I mentioned that you've got a nice car?"

Easing into the driver's seat, Wesker chuckled. "Only every time you've been in it."

Jill reached over to mesh her fingers with those of his free hand. "I just never get tired of it."

He lifted their interlaced hands to press a kiss onto her knuckles. "So I gathered, dear heart."

The drive to Jill's apartment was a brief one. Ever the gentleman, Wesker walked her to the door and stood by while she dug through her pockets to find the key.

"Shit, where is it?" Jill swore, shoving her hands frantically into every pocket. "Goddammit! The hell is my damn key?"

"Perhaps you left it at the station?" Wesker offered wryly.

"No, I got everything out of my locker before I left, I'm sure of that. Oh sshhhit," she hissed, dropping her head against the door with a soft thud. "I remember. I was in such a hurry this morning that I left it on the drawer." She'd narrowly avoided being late that morning. "Dammit, and the office is closed for the night, so I can't get a spare. God fucking dammit!"

Though unimpressed by her colorful language, doubtlessly a side-effect of the lingering buzz, Wesker couldn't help but chuckle.

"I could get in anyway, but there's something demeaning about having to break into your own home, and at any rate I've been asked not to do that." Jill sighed heavily and turned a pleading eye to Wesker. "I don't suppose you'd let me stay with you, would you, Albert?"

He smiled and slipped an arm around her waist. "I was about to offer that very thing, in fact. My apartment feels awfully lonely these days, when there's only one occupant."

She returned the smile slyly and cupped both hands behind his neck, pulling him down to her. Far from protesting, he bent his head and captured her lips for a brief, fond kiss. "We can't have that," Jill replied teasingly.

And so they returned to Wesker's car and drove the slightly longer distance to his apartment, which was nearly on the opposite side of town. Again, he graciously opened Jill's door for her, and with a playful smile offered his elbow. She hooked her arm through his and allowed him to escort her up the staircase, where he unlocked and opened the door without dropping her arm, and gestured grandly with his free hand. "Ladies first."

Jill shook her head in mock exasperation at his gentlemanly antics and stepped into his apartment. Wesker's living quarters were as neat and clean as anyone could hope for – quite a contrast from the homes of a few of the other bachelors in S.T.A.R.S., namely Chris, whose apartment looked like a tornado had gone through. He claimed it was an "organized mess", though Jill knew the oxymoron was nothing but an excuse. Chris was a typical twenty-four-year-old male. Wesker, on the other hand, was not a typical thirty-eight-year-old male, which was what she'd always loved about him. One of the things she'd always loved about him, at least.

Behind her, she heard the door close and boot-shod feet advance until they were directly behind her, while arms loosely encircled her waist. "Welcome home," Wesker murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck affectionately.

Jill laughed lightly and turned around in his embrace, throwing her own arms around his neck and leaning into his strong, lean body. She pressed her lips to his, fervently, and was pleased when he pulled her flush against him and deepened the kiss. Suddenly, Jill pulled back, and very deliberately plucked the sunglasses off his face. "I don't know how you see, wearing those at night," she scolded.

Now unveiled, the watery blue of Wesker's eyes seemed to pierce right into her very soul, as if the translucent color gave him the ability to see through the physical world and into the next. The first time she'd seen Wesker's eyes, she hadn't been able to look away for a long moment, struck by the almost uncanny quality. She'd never met anyone with such pale eyes before – if you didn't look close, you might think the whites of his eyes gave way directly to the pupil. It suited him, and not just because his reputation was as a cold-hearted tyrant – since Jill had met him, he had never once lost his temper. He was always cool and collected; and even when angry, that icy wrath was enough to give anyone in their right mind chills.

Right now, though, his clear ice-colored eyes gleamed with humor as he chuckled at Jill's cross chastisement. When she tried to disengage herself from his grip to put the shades on the coffee table behind her, Wesker kept his arms locked around her ribcage and pulled her back against him. "Oh no you don't," he purred, smirking mischievously.

Under normal circumstances, Jill probably would have continued the flirtation by playing hard to get and squirming out of his grasp, but with a few drinks on board, the game plan had changed. Instead, she willingly melted into his touch, letting the shades fall carelessly to the floor while her hands were otherwise engaged burying in Wesker's hair, ruining the carefully slicked-back order it had been in.

Another languid chuckle bubbled up from Wesker's chest. "Jill, you're quite lovely when you're buzzed," he remarked, pressing a kiss under her jaw, where he could feel her pulse under his lips. "It's a good thing you opted to let me drive. I'm afraid you would've been able to charm anyone who pulled you over out of giving you a ticket."

Jill left off nibbling at his earlobe for a moment to reply, "I wouldn't have been pulled over. Anyway, you're a hypocrite; I can tell you're a little buzzed too. You may have a freakishly high alcohol tolerance, but it's humanly impossible to drink as much as you did and remain sober."

"You caught me." Wesker smirked and tilted his head to claim Jill's lips once more in a kiss. "But everything worked out, so all is well."

Jill woke with thin slivers of light peeking through the closed blinds and shining into her face; groaning, she turned over, facing away from the window. She found herself with her nose a hair's breadth from the back of Wesker's neck. Fondly, she slid one hand under him and draped the other over his side, twining her fingers loosely in front of him and pulling herself against his lean bare back. She could tell he was awake by the more rapid, shallow breaths he was taking, in comparison to the deep, slow respiration of the deeply asleep.

"Good morning," he said, tilting his head to quirk an eyebrow and smile at her. She smiled back and kissed his cheek cheerily.

"Good morning, Albert."

Wesker blinked once, languidly, and sighed. "Morning people like you baffle me," he remarked.

Jill chuckled and sat up, giving his hip a playful smack as she did. "And insomniacs like you baffle me, so we're even."

Before she could withdraw her hand, Wesker had caught it in his and pulled it to his lips, pressing a kiss into her palm and then closing her fingers into a loose fist around it. She pulled her hand out of his grip with a smile. While he was in the process of waking up enough to get out of bed, Jill went about making a pot of coffee and hunting up breakfast. It was habit, by now, since Jill spent most of her weekends here rather than in her apartment. She sighed. Weekend sleep-overs were the best they could do, with both of them busy with S.T.A.R.S. most of the week. No one knew about the relationship, for if word got to the R.P.D. that Alpha team Captain Wesker was dating Alpha team Rear Security Officer Valentine, then she would be forced to relocate to a different part of the department. Rules against this type of fraternization were necessary, she knew, for police officers to do their jobs properly, but that didn't make it any easier when trying to bend those rules.

In a perfect world, they would be sharing an apartment by now; or perhaps more, though Jill kept that hope strictly to herself. She could guess how Wesker would react to that notion. She had to roll her eyes – he wasn't a typical man by any means, but he was a man and therefore shared some traits in common with the rest of the male species. And they all seemed to share a horror of commitment. Why, Jill would never know. It was just a part of life. Either way, the problem would probably never come up, given the issues they were having just keeping their relationship undiscovered right then.

Jill was brought back to reality when she felt a hand coming to rest on her hip and lean pectoral muscles press lightly against her back. Wesker's other arm reached past her to one of the two mugs Jill had set out, and with a smile she obligingly poured some of the now-ready coffee into it. He brought it straight to his lips; how he could stand black coffee, especially strong black coffee, with nothing to offset the flavor, was beyond her. But he gave every indication of enjoying the horribly bitter brew, and when she added sugar and creamer to her cup, she saw his nostrils flare in distaste. "Each to their own," she remarked defensively, cradling her mug with both hands.

He cradled her against his chest and smirked. "I didn't say a thing."

"But you were thinking it," Jill added in mock severity.

"What I was thinking had nothing to do with coffee."

She slapped him playfully and pulled away from him. Wesker just grinned and let her take a few steps away before reeling her right back into his embrace, nuzzling his face into her hair. "There you go jumping to conclusions," he chuckled. "Really now, what did you think was going through my mind?"

"Knowing you, probably nothing this early in the morning."

Wesker snorted and released Jill so he could poke through the refrigerator for food to quiet the impatient squirling noises his stomach was making. "You're nearly right. Food is the only thing going through my mind right now. What do you feel like this morning?"

Jill couldn't help but smile fondly at her lover's back. Would the rest of S.T.A.R.S. recognize him, the way he was acting now as opposed to the way he was at the station? Doubtful. "Whatever's fine. I'm easy."

"You are not helping."

-spazztwitchflail- That rambled. A lot. But oh well. It was fluffy.